I am Mom to a beautiful calico cat named Nani [which is the Hawaiian word for beautiful]. She was born in a shed in our lower yard with 3 siblings, one of whom I also adopted; sadly he left us a couple of years ago. Nani and her family were captured in a neighbor’s storm drain and I was asked to take her and her brother in for a week to socialize them. That was 12 years ago. I’m still working on her.
Many people who come to our house don’t realize I have a cat. At the first sound of a car door closing outside, she runs upstairs and hides under the bed. The UPS man last week said he saw a cat diving up the stairs when he came and that’s about all most people see.
Our children have seen her on occasion when she comes down to eat while they’re here. Two visiting dogs know she’s here–they cornered her under the bed on Christmas and lived to tell about it [so did she!].
She follows me from room to room, lies on the couch as close to my chair as she can get in the evening and naps in my office when I’m writing. She will tolerate my husband when I’m out of town but the moment I walk in the door she forgets who he is.
With me she purrs loudly and long. She shows me all her favorite places to be petted. She lets me know when she wants out of the front door, we have a cat door, and walks me to her dishes when she wants food or water, a trick her brother taught her.
I’ve had cats my whole life and she’s the shyest, most scared cat I’ve ever had. But she lets me know when someone’s coming and keeps me company when I’m alone. When I return from a trip, she runs downstairs to greet me–and lets me know how lonely she was without me.
I dread the day when she joins her brother but I know it’s coming. She’s a little slower, has a harder time jumping up on the couch or in “her” chair and sleeps more than she used to. But until then I will love her, enjoy her quirks and rub her chin.